Limerick Hate Poems | Limerick Poems About Hate
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(sorry, Tirzah, I could not do a nice long poem on horses.
I just felt like doing some silly limericks playing off expressions
for horses. Thanks for the inspiration!)
I Hate that Horse
There’s a horse that I so hate to see,
And at night sometimes he visits me.
His attack to my thigh
Makes me think I might die.
That Charly Horse acts horribly!
Horses Have Ears, Ya Know
“I could eat a horse!” hungry bob said
To his friends as he rode his horse, Ned.
Taking it the wrong way,
Ned reared up with a “neigh!”
Bob fell off and got kicked in the head.
“Pony up,” said the seamstress in town
With the new bride’s hand-sewn beaded gown.
But having no dough,
The bride cast her eyes low,
Saying, “Sorry, but my pony is down.”
In Our One Horse Town
We love ostriches. Haven’t you heard?
Yes, it’s true, and I give you my word
Just one old mare lives here.
Had no foals; she is queer.
So each cowboy just rides a bird!
For Tirzah's "A Horse is a Horse of Course" contest
We’re not called upon to choose anything we live through;
Neither parent nor sibling nor school nor form of sinew;
Neither colour of hair or eye or skin,
Nor love or hate, nor loss or gain
Nor opportunities nor whence we come. So much is true.
But as much as this truth I hold as true as sunlight,
I know that painful times will time to time alight
When with bitter phlegm you curse
The earth where you breathed first
And wish your day of birth were scratched by He with might.
I know. Same feelings have plagued my adult soul
And the wish for better home to make each day whole
Has been dashed by shameful news,
Where Hope, seeing Hitler, and 94’s Hutus,
Needs to hide its youth to stall the death toll.
But amidst pain, hate and bottled despair rife
There’s the rare love, innocent and hardly grasping to life.
For here, we can give our all
When we choose to keep you from a fall.
We really do it: humble, loving…just like the Lord’s life.
Yes, it’s easier to perceive the weeds in one’s garden
For the pastures beyond gleam in our myopia, hiding their burden.
And seeing that weed can cast a shadow
On all that’s sweet, but cause much ado
About the bitter parts, and it day by day your heart will harden.
Think of the evening breeze on the night grill,
Feeding the flames of a delicious family fish meal.
Think of hitting the unadulterated
Lands of hills where ancient rivers percolated
And happy goats skip, and cattle graze and one can feel
Life whizzing through rustling leaves of dancing old tree or reed,
Playing the music our ancestors learned to read,
Making your lungs touch their purpose,
Dazzling your eyes like a Jabbawockeez pose,
The music we’ve forgotten as we focus on some RSS feed.
Think of the youths wise with tradition re-enacting solemnly
The dances and music handed down from before when Ptolemy
Phrased ancient philosophical data,
To the time of the expansive empire of Sundiatta
Beads stomping the dust frantically in musical poetry.
Picture the pure darkness which crowds the silent night air,
Unveiling the marvellous dotted and scattered there
In the moonlit heavenly canvas,
Watching us from light years past,
And we fascinated by the sparkling magic they share.
So to sum it all up, I know it cannot be perfect,
And sometimes I rant and make massive graffiti of its defects,
But this home my parents chose
Still draws my spirit close,
For the bond is deeper, far deeper than human senses can detect.
I am a defender of democracy
But not its lies and hypocrisy:
And I detest Jihad terror,
Its soldier and flag bearer
Who defend their own atrocity!
Not funny I know. Limericks
Are supposed to be humorous.
I apologise for that.